


Know Your Mind

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Kougino - Freeform, M/M, Modern AU, some people have powers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5364737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a case, Ginoza disappears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Know Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Jessica Jones and Kilgrave's power to mind control. So this is a modern day universe where some people have gifts. Just so you all know what you're getting into.

Kougami stares at the missing person's report on his desk. It's been three days, fourteen hours since it was filed. He stares at the piece of paper marking the beginning of the file, and Ginoza Nobuchika stares back up at him from the picture used for his detective ID. 

Kougami regrets that he had that shift off, the day Ginoza disappeared. He regrets not making sure that someone was going with him to investigate a location they'd been given as a tip-off, someone who had said that there were homeless people fighting at the shipyard. During a murder investigation, nothing could be taken too lightly. But they'd all let their guard down and Ginoza had gone off to see to the matter on his own.

Now he is gone. 

Kougami puts the report aside and rests his head in his hands. They have no leads. They've been searching non-stop, scouring the area where Ginoza disappeared and the surrounding locations. The security cameras had been wiped. He'd left nothing behind. 

Kougami is no stranger to people going missing. As a detective he deals with it fairly often, and most of the cases turn out to be nothing serious. But he's heard of other cases going cold. People disappearing and never being heard from again. No bodies, no sign of them anywhere. Just gone. 

He doesn't want Ginoza to be one of those people. 

He can't be. 

* 

“Kou, we can't do this.” 

“Why not?” Kougami backs Ginoza up against the nearest desk. Half the lights are off. No one else is around. “At least let me walk you home.” 

“So you can get in my bed?” 

“No.” 

“I know you.” Ginoza looks up at him, over the rim of his glasses. “I'm not the sort of person who's going to be your friend with benefits.” 

“Gino,” Kougami laughs, “haven't you noticed that we're a bit more than friends? Practically, anyway.” 

“The long hours are making you delirious.” 

“No, that's not it.” Kougami smiles at him, gently. “I don't want you as a friend with benefits. I want to...well, I like you. Romantically.” 

“This is a conflict of interest,” Ginoza says, but his eyes are wide. 

“Plenty of office relationships happen.” 

“You don't mean that.” He doesn't manage to hide the bitterness in his voice. 

“Gino,” Kougami says, “how do you feel about me?” 

Ginoza stares at him. “I...” He closes his eyes, then suddenly pushes past Kougami, grabs his coat. “I like you,” he says, pulling his jacket on. “Which is why I hope you're not joking.” 

“I'm not joking.” Kougami strides over to him, catches his sleeve with one hand and pulls him close. “Trust me.” 

He presses his lips against Ginoza's, and Ginoza closes his eyes, kisses him back briefly before pulling away and heading out the door. 

Kougami doesn't take it to heart. He knows Ginoza, knows that he needs time to himself to think. He can only hope that Ginoza believes him. 

* 

“Stop talking.” 

Ginoza sucks in a breath, words dying in his throat. An endless stream of them, suddenly stopped. His mouth is dry. He's exhausted. And there's a part of him that has been telling himself to shut up for the past three hours, but now that he has he isn't satisfied. 

He's only stopped talking because Makishima told him to. 

The white-haired man sits cross-legged on the couch opposite, practically lounging. Next to him, a man named Choe makes notes on a touch-screen tablet, occasionally glancing up at Ginoza. His eyes are strange, glowing yellow. 

Ginoza would have been more careful if he'd known that the serial killers causing the recent murders around the city were gifted. 

But he didn't. They hadn't even considered it. Gifted people are so rare that it's often the last port of call for any investigator. But the public nature of the murders, the ability to elude every single bit of surveillance in the city and leave nothing behind, and the strange nature of some of the crime scenes should have tipped them off. 

But it didn't. 

Makishima had found Ginoza in the shipyard, had lured him there. Had told him to follow, and he did. He had no reason to. Inexplicably, he needed to. 

Makishima can control people's minds. He is dangerous. And Ginoza can't tell anyone. 

The apologies in his head stack higher and higher. Surely this is the only thing Makishima wants from him. 

“Detective Ginoza,” Makishima says. Choe stands up and leaves the room, and Makishima leans forward. “Do you know why I brought you here, and not the other lead detective on the case?” 

“No,” Ginoza says, quietly. 

“He fascinates me,” Makishima says. “I want to play with him. He is determined, and incredibly intelligent, and I'm sure that were I not gifted with my abilities, and Choe with his, he would have solved this case already. No, what fascinates me is the anger. I want to see just how far I can push that.” 

Ginoza doesn't say anything. 

“So tell me about Kougami Shinya,” Makishima says. “What is the worst thing I could possibly do to him?” 

“Kill the people he cares about,” Ginoza says, “especially if they don't deserve it.” The words tumble out before he can even think about them, like he's on autopilot. “If you were to get away with these crimes. If it came between saving someone he cares about or catching you, and he had to make that choice, that would haunt him. He doesn't like to be helpless.” 

“Hmm.” Makishima nods. “And who are you to him?” 

Ginoza's throat closes. Makishima narrows his eyes. 

“Tell me.” 

Still, it takes a moment for Ginoza to answer. A moment where he feels outside of himself, because what is he to Kougami Shinya? There are times when he thinks he is nothing to Kougami, to anyone. And there are times where he believes Kougami when Kougami says that he means something more to him. But that is still new. And he isn't sure it will last. 

It won't last. Not after this betrayal. Even if Makishima has the power to force his mind, Ginoza knows that he should be strong enough to resist. 

“Best friend,” he chokes out, finally, thinking that is enough. But it isn't. The words keep coming. “We're dating. Romantically. I love him. I don't know if he loves me. I'm not sure it will last.” 

“Why is that?” 

“I don't think I'm worth it.” Ginoza's eyes burn. His hands clench into fists, nails digging into his skin. Makishima should not know any of this. 

“Does Kougami think you're worth it?” 

“I don't know!” It's too harsh. He glares at Makishima and Makishima grins back. 

“Thank you for your cooperation,” he says, and Ginoza feels sick. “I think I know what I want you to do.” 

Ginoza shakes his head. Makishima's grin widens, his teeth showing. 

“Ginoza Nobuchika,” he says, “I am going to have so much fun with you.” 

* 

Ginoza wakes up in Kougami's arms. Kougami makes coffee in Ginoza's kitchen. They ride to work together in a haze of contentment and Ginoza can almost believe that this can be their life together. 

The illusion is shattered when their newest detective, Akane, runs into the office and tells them that there's another crime scene. 

The scene makes no sense. In the middle of a public square, a man on his knees with a knife clutched in his hand, throat slit so violently that his head is tipped backwards, held together only by a thin stretch of skin and muscle. He'd been found by commuters that morning. 

Kougami walks right up to the man, scrutinizes the wound, and then snaps, “What the fuck?” 

“Kou,” Ginoza starts, but Kougami cuts across him. 

“This guy is screwing around with us and pulling other people into his fucking game. What kind of sick fuck makes his murders look like suicides?” 

“Maybe it was suicide,” Kagari, one of the officers, suggests. 

“No,” Kougami says, “it wasn't. You couldn't put that much force on your own throat without recoiling from the pain first. Or passing out.” 

“Unless you were on drugs or something,” Kagari says. 

Kougami sighs and runs a hand through his hair. 

“He could have a point,” Ginoza tells him, touching him gently on the arm. “Calm down, Kou.” 

“I don't want more people dead,” Kougami says. 

“I know. None of us do. We're all on the same side.” 

Kougami nods. “Fine. We'll see what the autopsy brings up.” 

The autopsy doesn't bring up anything. No drugs in the system, no fingerprints on the knife other than the victim's. 

“This is ridiculous,” Kougami mutters as they walk out of the morgue. “This wasn't a suicide.” 

But they don't have any other answers. 

Kougami is much more distracted after that, by his own thoughts, by the case, by his anger at this unseen murderer. 

Ginoza feels like he can't even reach him. 

*

Kougami walks outside after his shift and finds a note stuck to the dash of his police car. It's an address, one he recognizes as being in a less populated part of town. An address, and nothing more. 

He spins around and heads back into the office to get everyone who is still there. A few minutes later, they're on the road. 

“It's him,” he tells Akane. “It has to be him.” 

“This could be a trap,” Akane points out. 

“What else are we supposed to do?” Kougami asks. “Just sit on our hands and wait for Gino's body to turn up somewhere?” 

“No,” Akane says. “You're right.” 

They pull up to the building, abandoned, flanked by two other police cars. Kougami unholsters his gun, heads for the door. It's ajar. 

“They're expecting us,” Kagari says. 

Kougami pushes the door open and points the gun inside. 

It's dark. Silent. He moves forward, slowly, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the building, the only light coming from the street outside, casting a strange yellow-orange glow on everything. 

Something slams into the floor above them. 

Kougami rushes for the staircase, ignoring the cries from the others to wait, runs up the stairs and into the second floor hallway. He hears another thud, this time to his right, and he bursts into the room, ready to shoot. 

Standing by the window is Ginoza, unsteady on his feet, and another man. Kougami doesn't recognize him. He has white hair, a strange smile on his face. 

“Kougami Shinya,” he says. “I'm so glad you could join us.” 

“Gino,” Kougami says, stepping forward. “What's going on?” 

“I'm Makishima Shogo,” the white-haired man says. “I'm the man you've been looking for.” 

Kougami's gaze shifts from Ginoza to Makishima, shocked. Why would he confess? 

“What do you want?” 

“I want to see what makes you tick,” Makishima says. “You know, at first I wanted to throw the city into chaos. To show them that they weren't safe, because there are people out there who can hurt them. People who can control them. People who are like gods. For example.” Makishima presses something into Ginoza's hands. Kougami catches a flash of silver in the light. A knife. Ginoza tenses, looks away from Kougami. 

Kougami doesn't understand the point of this. Ginoza wouldn't hurt him. 

“Stab yourself in the arm,” Makishima says, “and don't remove the knife.” 

“What-” Kougami starts, but he chokes on the words as Ginoza thrusts the knife Makishima had given him straight into his left arm and leaves it there. “Gino!” 

“Just a demonstration,” Makishima tells him. 

Kougami's radio crackles. “Kougami,” Akane says over the device, “we're coming upstairs.” 

“I wouldn't let her, if I were you.” Makishima's eyes flicker to Ginoza and back again to Kougami. 

Kougami picks up his radio. “Don't,” he tells Akane. “We have a situation. But don't come. You'll aggravate it.” 

“Kougami-” 

“Stay where you are.” 

Akane doesn't respond. Makishima grins. 

“So as you can see,” he says, “I can do quite a lot. But once I started causing public disruptions, I noticed something. You. Your anger. And I thought, what would make a police man tick?” 

“This isn't about me,” Kougami growls. “This is about you being a sick fuck.” 

“Take the knife and drag it along your arm,” Makishima says. 

Kougami steps forward just as Ginoza drags the knife down towards his elbow, whole body shuddering with the pain. The wound is deep. It could be lethal. Kougami's hand tightens around his gun. 

“Stop,” Makishima says. “Pull it out.” 

Ginoza pulls it out. Makishima takes the knife and Ginoza's free hand flies up to the wound on his arm to stop the bleeding. But he can't. 

“You're angry,” Makishima says to Kougami. “But that's not enough. I want to see you break. Beyond your job. And I think I know what will do that.” 

“Don't,” Kougami says. 

“You know what I can do, but I don't think it matters,” Makishima continues. “What happens will still be etched into your memories. You'll always have that doubt, that what if. What if part of it was genuine? What if it was real?” He turns to Ginoza. “Tell him.” 

Ginoza looks up at Kougami, his eyes overly bright. “I,” he swallows, and chokes out, “I hate you.” 

“That's not true,” Kougami says. 

“I hate you,” Ginoza repeats, but he sounds like he's begging. “I hate you. I hate how focused on the job you are, how selfish you are. I hate your anger, I hate your obsession with criminals and how you'll put them over the people who care about you.” There are tears running down his cheeks. “I don't want you. I want someone better.” 

“That's not true,” Kougami says, but it's quiet. Because everything Ginoza is saying about him is true. 

Makishima mutters something, and Ginoza turns to him, kisses him. Makishima wraps his arms around Ginoza, forcing the kiss longer, one hand digging into the back of Ginoza's hair, holding him there. Then he pushes Ginoza away. Ginoza staggers, gasping, looking sick. 

“Fuck you,” Kougami shouts. Makishima smirks at him. “Fuck you for doing this to him.” He unholsters his gun. 

“Are you going to shoot me?” Makishima asks. “Don't I deserve a fair trial? You can't actually prove that I killed anyone. My confession is only words.” 

“You hurt him,” Kougami growls, raising his gun. 

“Well, I have my answer,” Makishima says. “Strange, how easily you're swayed by something so insignificant. As much as I would like to see this play out in its entirety, I'm not stupid enough to let myself get killed so easily. I still have other plans. So.” He turns to Ginoza. “Beat him to within an inch of unconsciousness. Then kill yourself.” 

“No!” 

But Ginoza doesn't listen, or can't. He lunges forward. Kougami dodges, and shoots twice at Makishima before Ginoza slams into him. 

The gun goes off a third time. Kougami has a glimpse of Makishima staggering forward, red dripping from his stomach, before Ginoza's fist smashes into his face, momentarily making his vision go dark. He struggles to get away, but Ginoza is straddling him. 

Kougami twists underneath him, aiming at Makishima again, shoots a fourth, fifth, six time. Desperate. Two of the shots miss. The sixth shot glances Makishima's shoulder and he stumbles, but makes it to the door. Kougami keeps pulling the trigger. He needs Makishima to die for what he's done. He doesn't care about a trial, about judges and juries. Makishima deserves to die. 

But then Ginoza's fists start slamming into him. Kougami thinks he feels a rib crack. He doesn't want to hurt Ginoza. He wants to get to Makishima, finish him off. He can't get away. 

“Please, stop,” he begs. 

Ginoza's eyes are wide, partially obscured by his hair. “I can't,” he chokes, bringing his fists down again on Kougami's chest, and there's a sickening snap. 

Kougami can't help but cry out in pain. 

He struggles to stay conscious. Ginoza's face is pale, Kougami's chest feels warm and wet. He wonders if Ginoza somehow managed to break his skin. Then he realizes, when Ginoza stops for a brief moment, what it is. 

The blood running from the gash in Ginoza's arm. 

He's bleeding out. 

Kougami struggles to sit up, but Ginoza backhands him and shifts his weight, bloodied fingers scrambling at Kougami's arm. Kougami clutches the gun tighter, but Ginoza tries to pry his fingers back. And Kougami knows that Ginoza will break bones to get what he wants. 

“Please,” he begs. “Don't do this. You can't do this. You don't want to do this. This isn't you.” 

Ginoza digs his fingers into a pressure point at Kougami's wrist; his hand spasms, and he releases the gun. 

Ginoza grabs it, tries to get away, but Kougami grabs his arm. 

“No,” Ginoza snarls, and pulls the trigger. 

Kougami's shoulder erupts in pain and his vision starts to white out. He wills himself, not yet, not yet and the white static clears, just enough for him to see Ginoza press the muzzle of the gun under his own chin, close his eyes, and pull the trigger. 

A click. Nothing. Ginoza sags forward, drops the gun, breathing hard. For a moment he is still. 

A moment. Then, his eyes shift from the gun along the floor and focus on something a few feet away. 

Kougami follows his gaze a few seconds too late. A few feet away is Makishima's knife, and Ginoza crawls towards it. 

Every movement sends a sharp pain through Kougami's entire body, but he pushes himself up. He can't let this happen. He can't let this happen. Ginoza's hand closes around the knife, he brings it to his neck, and Kougami lurches forward. 

Ginoza drags the knife, hard, across his throat. Kougami grabs his hand, pulls it down with the knife, just as he gets halfway, but blood spurts from the wound. Kougami throws the knife as far away as he can and wraps his hands around Ginoza's throat, feeling the warm blood coat his fingers, run down his arms. Together, they sink to the ground, Kougami breathing hard, Ginoza's breaths sounding too wet. 

“Let go,” Ginoza chokes, but he's too weak to struggle. 

Kougami shakes his head. 

“Why not?” Ginoza coughs, blood running down his chin. He grits his teeth. “I deserve it.” 

Those words hit Kougami worse than any physical blow. Before he can respond, he hears shouting, yelling. Someone kneels down next to him. He hears someone talk about calling for medical help. Someone else mentions cauterizing a wound. Someone touches Kougami's hands, tries to pry them off Ginoza's throat, but Kougami won't let go. He can't let go. The blood is still flowing and as long as Ginoza still has blood in him, Kougami will keep his hands there. He won't let Ginoza die. 

He blinks, and he's on his back, staring at the night sky. He struggles to sit up, panicking, tries to speak, but every inhale hurts. Someone holds him down. 

“He's gone,” Akane says in his ear. 

“Ginoza?” Kougami feels sick. 

“No. Makishima is dead. Ginoza was taken to the hospital ahead of you.” 

“Oh.” 

“It's over.” 

It's over. Kougami stops struggling and allows himself to slip into unconsciousness. 

*

Ginoza wakes up and wishes he hadn't. 

He wakes up alone, wakes up and feels heavy and weak. He is weak. He's done horrible things that he should never have been able to do. He should have been able to resist. Someone is crying. His cheeks are wet. Maybe it's him. 

He remembers Kougami's anger towards Makishima. He wonders now if Kougami feels the same anger towards him. 

He would deserve it. Just like he deserved to die back there. 

There was a part of him that wanted to die. Not just because Makishima wanted him to kill himself, but because he felt that he should, after everything. 

And that makes everything much harder. 

* 

Kougami wakes up to white. To the buzzing of machines, and distant pain, and thoughts he can't even begin to access. Everything seems far away. At first. 

Everything becomes closer, more present. He becomes more present. The doctors list off his injuries: bullet wound to the shoulder, three broken ribs, lots of bruising, blood loss. 

Akane is in and out, dealing with the aftermath of the case. She doesn't talk much. She doesn't have time, although he can tell that she wants to stay. 

The first person to talk to him in any detail is Kagari. 

“Lots of paperwork,” Kagari sighs, slouching into the chair beside Kougami's bed. “So much. Anyway, Makishima got shot by Kunizuka when he tried to get Akane to turn on us during his escape. I shot his accomplice, Choe gu-Sung. He bled out, but not before we had a bit of a fight.” 

There's a scabbing over gash on Kagari's cheek. Kougami wonders if there's more hidden under his clothes. But Kagari doesn't seem troubled. 

“Shion's looking through all of Choe's stuff,” he continues. “Apparently he was gifted. They both were, but Choe could, like, manipulate electrical fields and tech and stuff. Which is why they could always do shit in public places and get away with it. Isn't that wild? I wish I were gifted sometimes.” He sighs. “The Chief was pissed that we killed off both of them, could've done with the information, especially for finding other dangerous gifted people. But I'm sure what Shion gets off Choe's stuff will give us loads.” 

“I hope so,” Kougami says. He shifts, trying to sit up a bit. Tired of being in the hospital bed, on his back, unable to move. “Have you seen Ginoza?” 

Kagari's expression shifts, closing off. “Yeah.” 

“And?” 

“Lots of blood loss,” Kagari says. 

“And?” 

Kagari sighs. “I don't know. I think this is going to have a huge effect on him, mentally. He's pretty closed off but I can tell he's...well, apparently he told Akane something that scared the shit out of her.” 

“Do you know what it was?” 

“I mean it's-” 

“Tell me.” 

“That he wishes he'd died back there.” 

Kougami struggles to sit up, but the pain from his injuries lands him on his back again. “No. He can't think that it's his fault. It's not.” 

“We know that,” Kagari says, “but we can't imagine what it's like for him. It hasn't happened to any of us, except Akane for like five seconds, and he knows that.” 

“Still, he has to know we don't blame him,” Kougami says. 

“I don't think that matters. He blames himself.” 

* 

They each spend a week in the hospital, and although Kougami doesn't see Ginoza in that time, he insists on taking Ginoza home after. 

“Neither of us should be alone,” he tells Akane. “You and the others still have work to do, and we have time off. We might as well spend it with each other.” 

Akane nods, understanding why he wants to be with Ginoza when they're released. It's not just a matter of convenience. And she looks relieved. 

“That'll be good for, for both of you,” she says. He doesn't miss the flash of fear in her eyes. 

Ginoza must not be doing well. 

The wounds are healing, physically. They're both still tired, still in pain. It still hurts to move, but Kougami is more than ready to leave the hospital when he makes his way to Ginoza's room with Akane. 

“I think he's ready,” she says quietly. 

“Thank you,” Kougami says, and she nods and walks away. 

Kougami goes inside. 

Ginoza sits on the edge of the hospital bed, fully dressed. There's a bandage around his neck, more peaking out from under his sweater. He looks too pale, too closed in on himself, fragile like something Kougami could accidentally shatter underfoot. 

And he won't look up. 

“Gino,” Kougami says, moving forward. “I'm taking you home.” 

“You don't have to,” Ginoza says, voice hoarse. 

“Yes, I do,” Kougami says. “Come on.” 

“I guess Akane didn't want to deal with me,” Ginoza says, standing up slowly. “Not after what I said to her.” He laughs, bitter. “No one wants to deal with broken people.” 

“Don't say that,” Kougami says. 

“Because you don't want to hear it?” Ginoza asks. 

“We can talk when we get home.” 

*

The car ride is silent. The walk up to Ginoza's apartment is silent. Akane had been taking care of Dime, who is overjoyed to see Ginoza, bumping against his legs and almost preventing him from walking further than the threshold of the door. But they get inside, Ginoza goes into the kitchen to feed Dime, and Kougami gingerly sits on the couch, waiting. 

Akane and Kagari were right. Ginoza is far from okay. 

Broken. That's the word Ginoza had used. 

But broken doesn't mean that he can't be put back together. 

Ginoza emerges from the kitchen, mutters, “I need to be alone,” and heads into the bedroom. Kougami springs up from the couch. 

“Wait. We need to talk.” 

The door slams shut just as he reaches it. 

“Gino,” he says, pressing his hand against the door. “We need to talk. And I don't want you to be alone.” 

There's no answer. Kougami tries the handle, but it won't budge. 

“Gino,” he repeats, voice rising. “Please, let me help.” 

For a few moments he thinks he'll have to break open the door. But then it opens, just a little, and Kougami pushes it wider and steps into the room, closing it behind him. Ginoza sits on the bed, not looking at him, shoulders shaking. 

“Gino...” 

“Why would you want to help me?” Ginoza asks, looking up, glaring at him through tears. 

“He made you do those things.” 

“How much of it was him?” Ginoza demands. “Can another person really make you do something like that? Really?” 

“We know people are gifted,” Kougami says. “We know they're capable of extraordinary things.” 

“I hurt you,” Ginoza insists. “I said things and did things that you shouldn't forgive. I did them. And you almost became a killer because of me. How don't you hate me?” 

“Because it wasn't your fault.” 

Ginoza scoffs, wet sounding, and glances away. “Well, I hate me.” 

“Don't say that.” Kougami moves forward, but Ginoza jumps to his feet, swaying slightly. 

“The last thing he told me to do,” Ginoza snarls, backing away, “is what I wanted. He didn't have to make me. I wanted to die, for hurting you.” 

Kougami stares at him, a chill running through his body, making him feel ill. 

“I'm worthless,” Ginoza continues, relentless. “I was weak. I couldn't fight him off, and I should have. Because how I feel about you, how much I care about you, it should have been enough. But it wasn't, because I'm weak. And I wanted to die because I'm a coward. You-you don't need someone like that in your life, K-Kougami. You're worth more than a-a worthless c-coward.” He was shaking now, breath hitching. 

“You're not,” Kougami says, moving forward. Ginoza tries to move away, but Kougami catches him by the arm and pulls him close. 

Ginoza all but collapses into him, sobbing. Kougami lowers them both to the floor, his own eyes burning. 

“You're not worthless,” Kougami tells him. “I'm not a liar, so believe me when I say that. The same thing could've happened to any of us. It's horrible, what he did, but you're not worthless. And it's not your fault. Tell me that.” 

“I-I c-can't,” Ginoza chokes. 

“It's not your fault,” Kougami repeats. “I don't care how many times I have to tell you that, and how many times I have to tell you that you're worth it. I will until you believe me.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I love you,” Kougami says. Ginoza jerks away to stare at him, eyes wide, and Kougami realizes it's the first time he's actually told him. “That hasn't changed. And I don't want to lose you.” 

Ginoza shudders, then looks away, wiping vigorously at his eyes. “I don't know,” he says. “I don't know. I don't understand. I don't-” 

Kougami places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It's fine. But you're not alone. I'm going to be here.” 

Ginoza meets his eyes. “It,” he swallows, “it's not my fault.” It comes out faint, more like a question. 

It's a start. 

“It's not your fault,” Kougami repeats, pulling him close, holding him. He'll hold Ginoza and keep holding him if it keeps Ginoza from completely shattering. 

Ginoza sinks into his embrace, becoming still. The floor is cold and uncomfortable, but Kougami stays there, Ginoza in his arms, unwilling to let go until Ginoza is ready to move again.


End file.
